


Together.

by RussianSunflower3



Series: Rescue November 2020 challenge by Bonanza [16]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Rescue Bots
Genre: Baby Heatwave has a crush!!!, But as recruits!!!, Disasters, First Meetings, Gen, Pre-Cybertronian Civil War, Pre-War, Prompt - Disaster, Rescue Bot November, Rescue Force Sigma-17, aged down, day 22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27667658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianSunflower3/pseuds/RussianSunflower3
Summary: The first day Heatwave, Chase, Blades, and Boulder worked as a team wasn't exactly ideal.For one thing, they were only younglings at the Rescue Academy on Cybertron.Secondly, they'd never even spoken with Blades before.And lastly, it involved falling into a sinkhole, meeting danger face to face, and having to do it all on their own.So yeah, not ideal.
Series: Rescue November 2020 challenge by Bonanza [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996795
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	Together.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bonanza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonanza/gifts).



> Sigma-17 are roughly equivalent in age to a 13-14 year old here!  
> They're so little! :D

Typhoon was an old bot.  
Well, not _old_ exactly, but certainly not young anymore.

His reaction times were slower, and he ached at the end of a long day. Being a Rescue Bot was getting hard. And then, something had changed.

Torrent, his younger brother, (and one of the _best_ rescue bots) had suggested a change in career that still took place within Rescue Bot work.

“Everybody settle down now! I’m sure you’re all _very_ excited for your first field assignments, but there are some rules we must go over.” Typhoon looks over the classroom with a fond exasperation.

He took up teaching the new Rescue Bots generation after Torrent encouraged him to do so, telling him that he was the inspiration the younglings needed, and the steady guiding servo that would help them all excel.

It helped that Typhoon _adored_ younglings, and these little ones were oh-so-special to him. 

His class consisted of 12 younglings with a variety of alt modes, ambitions, and reasons for becoming Rescue recruits. There was even a 5-mech-Gestalt in his class! 

The recruits all skitter into their seats and Typhoon waits until the excited giggles and wiggles have settled down.

“Rule number one! You’re going to be separated into groups of four, just like graduated Rescue Bot teams. And you five-” He stops to playfully waggle a digit in the direction of the gestalt.

“- try to mix with others, okay? I won’t stop you being two to a group, but no more than that, please.” Carefully, Typhoon watches their reactions.

First Aid, always the most reasonable, vents a sigh but nods all the same and jots the rule down in his little datapad. There’s no concerns there. 

Hot Spot is already leaning over to a couple of mechs outside of the gestalt, asking if he can join them, a servo tugging Groove insistently.

Groove, who looks very annoyed at this situation. He liked to laze around behind his gestalt most of the time, observing from the outside without really contributing.

Streetwise rolls his optics, his pedes crossed under the desk, until a femme winks at him and he gradually grins back. Huh. He might even branch off on his own.

Blades… Huh. Typhoon shutters his optics. Where _was_ Blades? He catches a flash of orange peeking out from behind First Aid. Ah! There he was! … Clinging desperately to his brother and trying to literally disappear.

He must radiate distress, because the rest of his gestalt turn to him and subtly move to circle around him. First Aid even reaches over his own shoulder and pats Blades’ helm reassuringly, giving him a chirp that only gestalt _sparklings_ used. 

Maybe it was a good idea to give the anxious youngling a sense of independence.

“... Hmm… Blades, could you group up with… Let’s see now…” Typhoon glances over the 7 other recruits in the room. Boulder was the obvious choice. He was gentle, patient, and encouraging. If he hadn’t been so captivated by engineering and science, he would have made a great medic.

Yellowjacket was too waspish, Undercurrent far too loud and immature, Kicker too impatient to deal with such an anxious teammate…

Chase! Chase would be perfect! He was studious, dedicated, and logical despite his simplicity. He’d probably be able to calm Blades down with facts if the younger recruit panicked. 

That left Bulldoze and Heatwave. Both were rather hotheaded, but Bulldoze was a little more impulsive and _unhinged_ , whilst Heatwave was stubborn and creative.

“Ah yes, partner with Boulder, Chase, and Heatwave. You’ll be one team. Undercurrent, Streetwise, Yellowjacket and First Aid, you’ll be the second team. Hot Spot, Bulldoze, Groove, and Kicker, you’re team 3. Is everyone alright with that?”

“No!” Sometimes, being a teacher meant making hard decisions - even sparkbreaking ones. So Typhoon takes a deep vent inwards to steady himself and _ignores_ the frightened squeak from the back of the classroom.

This is to _help_ Blades. He just hopes the youngling can see that in the end.

“Move into your groups then, please. And start getting to know each other better whilst we wait for the assistant teachers!” As soon as Typhoon claps his servos, the classroom bustles into activity, the 12 students instantly grouping into their three teams of four.

Or, most of them.

First Aid, with Blades still clinging to side, approaches the desk with his little servo gently holding onto one of black ones squeezing back. 

“Sir…” Lowering his voice, Typhoon speaks softly.

“What’s the matter, youngling? Is this about Blades-”

“Yes.” He doesn’t expect the reply so instant that it’s almost a snap. First Aid ducks his helm with a sheepish apology, casting a concerned look at his brother who only whispers a near-silent _‘please…’_.

“Could you swap Streetwise with Blades? Or at least me? I know one of us will have to be on our own, and neither of us three are comfortable with that, but I’m certainly better at dealing with it than the other two.”

“I get where you’re coming from, First Aid, I really do, but... “ Typhoon pauses, softening his optics and tilting his helm so he speaks directly to Blades. His spark pounds miserably at the optical fluid building up in Blades’ optics, but he’s also surprised by the somewhat stubborn animosity in his terrified gaze.

“... Being a Rescue Bot means putting others needs above your own. It’s about branching out, finding new ways, and growing as an individual as well as a team. I think this will help you, if you’ll let it.”

“I- I don’t wa-want to! I d-don’t _know_ them…!” Blades glances quickly over at the team he’s been assigned to. Boulder waves with a friendly grin, Chase dips his helm in polite greeting, and Heatwave raises an optical ridge as if asking why he isn’t joining them.

Despite the openness and lack of hostility, Blades shivers and shrinks against his brother further, looking up at their teacher with wide, desperate optics.

“Please… _Please…_ I- I’ll be good, so please let me stay with one of my gestalt!” Typhoon resists the urge to run a servo down his face stressfully. Oh, this is tugging on his spark, and it’s starting to make him feel _guilty_.

Venting a sigh, he moves round from the desk and crouches down so he’s optic to optic with the youngling recruits.

“I know it’s scary for you, but you’ll _get_ to know them. It’s only this once, Blades. And who knows, you might make some lifelong friends here.” He can feel uncertainty radiating from the youngling - the smallest of his gestalt - and then, First Aid makes a decision.

A decision just as difficult as the one Typhoon made earlier.

He shrugs Blades off his frame. Betrayed optics whip to him, but First Aid pats his helm reassuringly.

“Just this once. You’ll be okay.”

“No, no no no, ‘Aid, please! No!” A quick, tight hug, and then First Aid wrenches himself away to go over and join his assigned team. Blades almost follows him, a quiet whimper that may as well have been a cry slipping from his vocaliser. 

The poor thing _shakes_.

With no one else to turn to, he looks up at Typhoon, amber optics near-white in fear. Slowly, Typhoon reaches out and puts his large, warm servo on Blades’ back.

“Come along, now. I’ll help you introduce yourself. Tell you what, I’ll even take you four under my wing for this expedition, okay? If you really can’t do this, I’ll let you stay with me whilst those three go off as a trio. Okay with that?”

“M’not okay with _any_ of this…” Typhoon stands again, never taking his servo off Blades’ back as he guides the youngling over to the waiting trio. For the last few steps, he practically has to push Blades closer.

He can _feel_ the much-too-fast whir of cooling systems, elevated temperature, and racing _**thump, thump, thump**_ of Blades’ spark through his armour. 

“Heatwave, Chase, Boulder, I’d like you to meet your teammate for this field exercise. This is Blades, and it’s his first time being in a team without his gestalt.” He lets the unsaid warning of _‘so be nice’_ hang for a moment.

“Hi, it’s really nice to meet you, Blades. I can’t believe we haven’t spoken before, especially since we’re classmates.” Boulder holds out a servo with a welcoming smile, warm and inviting and friendly. Blades stares at the servo. Boulder tilts his helm in confusion. Blades keeps staring.

“You’re, uh, you’re supposed to shake it?” Typhoon gives Blades a little encouraging nudge forwards. Blades stumbles backwards into his teacher’s legs.

“Really? Are you _seriously_ a Rescue Bot recruit?” Heavy sarcasm paints Heatwave’s tone, and Typhoon gives him a sharp look. One that has Heatwave grimacing and then ducking his helm.

“Sorry…”

“It’s not me you should be apologising to.” Heatwave crosses his arms over his chassis, rolls his optics, but then, addresses Blades seriously.

“Sorry for questioning if you’re actually a recruit, just because you’re _scared_ of shaking a servo.” Typhoon is about to tell Heatwave off, when he notices the youngling double take, and lean backwards.

“What’s with that glare? Oh, come on! I apologised! Stop glaring at me!” Sure enough, despite being pressed against Typhoon’s legs and shaking under his plating, Blades is _glowering_ back at Heatwave.

Huh. Maybe there’s a fiery streak to him after all.

Laughing at Heatwave’s plight, Boulder steps forwards, offering his servo again.

“Wow, not many bots stand up to Heatwave. Maybe you can help us keep his hot head from getting out of control? He likes to boss us around a lot.”

“Hey!” Chase shushes Heatwave in the background by rapping his knuckles against Heatwave’s shoulder. But his optics are on Boulder and Blades. Particularly, the moment Blades shyly reaches out to shake Boulder’s servo.

He hesitates, draws back a second, but then somehow musters the courage to take Boulder’s servo in his own.

“O-okay…” 

“Okay?”

“I can… Umm… Help. I think?” Boulder shakes Blades’s servo strong enough to make the smaller youngling jostle back and forth, and Typhoon chuckles gently as he puts both servos on Blades’ shoulder to steady him. Boulder quickly lets go.

“Oh! Sorry! Sometimes I forget my own strength…” Blades looks up with a nervous smile.

“S’mtimes Groove does too… ‘Cus he never likes t’ use it…” Boulder smiles, and then steps aside with a servo held out invitingly for Chase and Heatwave to introduce themselves.

Heatwave shutters his optics. His cheekplates start to flush at the pouty expression he’s being given. He shifts weight from pede to pede, before sticking out the full length of his arm. And Typhoon just _grins_.

As a teacher, it’s _easy_ to tell when students are developing little crushes. And Blades must have made a very good first impression.

“Heatwave. Future captain of a Rescue team.” Oho! And now _he’s_ trying to impress Blades! 

“Don’t you have to be _nice_ to be a captain?” Blades’ petty little hiss stuns Heatwave into silence. From behind, there’s a muffled laugh. Chase steps forwards, shouldering Heatwave asides, and salutes.

Boulder waves a servo over Heatwave’s optics and there’s no response. Wow, really stunned.

“My designation is Chase. It is a delight to talk to you, Blades, I have had many good conversations with Streetwise before.” Maybe it’s the way he speaks, maybe it’s the formal introduction, or maybe it’s that he’s so _similar_ to Streetwise, but something about Chase makes Blades relax for the first time.

He stops trying to hide, stops shrinking back into Typhoon’s legs, and mirrors the salute with respect, standing a little taller and straighter. 

“Hello… I, um, I hope we can have good conversations too…” He’s still shy, but the sweet little smile that grows on his faceplates encourages Chase to relax as well, no longer worried about connecting with their temporary teammate.

It seems they’ll settle together fine.

“Typhoon.” The teacher looks up at the gentle knock on the open door, spotting the two assistant teacher’s he’d brought in to help supervise the other two teams. They’ll be meeting up with Rescue Bots on the field, but it was standard to have a teacher with them too.

“Come in, come in, let me introduce you to the younglings you’ll be supervising!” Typhoon bustles away, leaving his team of four younglings awkwardly standing together. 

Chase drops his salute as professionally as a full-fledged enforcer would, and Blades lowers his slowly, starting to withdraw into himself now that he has no idea what to do. Before he can completely step away, Chase grabs his servo and kindly tugs him towards the other two.

“We were just discussing what kind of ‘expedition’ this would be. I believe Heatwave was about to _rudely_ dismiss my suggestion of shadow-learning.” Heatwave scoffs, though it’s laced with amusement.

“Because we’re recruits. _Younglings_. Shadow-learning wouldn’t come this early in our training. It’s either going to be a tour of a Rescue Team headquarters, or a rescue simulation.” 

“A rescue sim would be interesting. I’d _love_ to join an actual patrol though. How amazing would it be to literally walk in the pedesteps of Rescue Bots?” Boulder leans forwards, enthusiastic, and Chase nods with a placid smile.

“Of all those options, the patrol does sound most like field experience.” He feels an unsure squeeze in his servo and looks down to realise he’d never let go of Blades’ servo. But Blades doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it comforts him.

So Chase lets it remain.

“I think I’d like the tour better… Rescue work is too _dangerous_ for us. Even if it were staged, or a simulation, we’ve had nowhere near enough lessons to know what to do.” Heatwave rolls his optics, pointedly looking away. But not before he mutters a small;

“Coward.” Blades hears it and flinches, his servos coming up to his chassis as if to cover it, forgetting that Chase’s servo is still in his own. Through the back of his servo, Chase can feel the _stutter_ of Blades’s spark, as if someone had physically punched him in the chestplates. That insult had _**hurt**_ him.

And that switches something in Chase’s coding to full throttle.

“If you dare insult my new friend again, I _will_ fight you, regardless of our friendship.” One digit points aggressively at Heatwave, Chase’s optics narrowed and a darker amber than usual in threat. Heatwave’s lipplates curl up in a snarl back, but then, Boulder steps between them.

“Woah, woah, time out! Calm down, okay? Chase, there’s no need to react so aggressively. Heatwave, you _are_ being a little mean.” Tension loosens in their struts, but neither backs down. Not until a small voice pips up;

“F-Friend? I’m your… Friend?” Blades still has his servos up to his chassis, and his optics are filling with fluid, but in a good way. He shakes his helm to clear it, looking back against at Chase.

“I’ve never had a friend before…” Venting a warm huff, chase holds up their still joined servos so Blades can see, and gives it a soft squeeze.

“You do now, if that is alright with you?” Blades lets go of his servo. Chase tries not to feel disappointed, but then, Blades is lunging at him, hugging him tightly. 

“Mhm! Please be my friend!” That ‘something’ in Chase’s coding settles completely with the contact, and he’s quick to realise what it is. Amica coding. 

_Amica Endura_ coding.  
There was only one single Cybertronian for each individual that could activate this programming. Some Cybertronians never found theirs.

It’s a coding that’s stronger than friendship alone, more like a co-creation bond.

(Many medics had told Chase he would likely never encounter the only Cybertron to activate this programming, thanks to his Social Processing Disorder. But here it was. Here it was, and that was wonderful to him.)

“Of course I shall.” He hugs back quickly before they separate, and Boulder grins at them as he slings an arm over one of Chase’s shoulders and one of Heatwave’s. 

“This is great! We can _all_ be friends! Right, Heatwave?” Awkwardly plonking himself into a chair and swinging his pedes, Heatwave rests his chin in one servo.

“I guess so. But you’ll still have to prove yourself to me. I’m not going to trust that you’re rescue bot worthy just because you’re in this class.” Venting a sigh, Boulder thinks this is about to start another argument, until Blades nods with determination.

“The same goes for you, Heatwave.” That seems to earn a little bit of Heatwave’s respect, but before he can tease Blades for actually having a spinal strut, they’re interrupted.

“My group, are you ready?” Typhoon waits for them in the doorway, and belatedly, the group looks around to see everyone else gone. Blades tenses up at the realisation, looking like he’d love to go and hide under a desk now, thank you very much, and Chase offers him a placating servo.

Typhoon smiles as Blades takes it shyly, ushering Heatwave out the door followed by Boulder, and then the duo chase after them at slightly faster than walking speed.

“Heatwave! The rules state no running in the hallways!”

“The _rules_ can wait until we come back!” Typhoon chuckles as Chase rolls his optics, then jogs ahead to catch up with his wayward student. He’s able to grab Heatwave by the immobilizing handle all younglings had tucked into the back of their frame, astroseconds before he darts onto the busy road outside the academy.

“Dial back the wheels, rascal. These roads are busy during lesson time. It’s only afterwards that the diversions are put in place to allow you all safe passage home.”

“... Oh.” Typhoon releases the handle, letting Heatwave move again. He stretches and rolls his shoulders, wires tense from the sudden stop. Knowing that’s as close to an apology as he’s going to get, Typhoon waits for the others to catch up.

It seems that Chase and Blades slowed their pace to stay with Boulder, as all three come round the corner at the same time, slowing to a jog then a walk when they see Heatwave _isn’t_ a squashed pile of scrap metal in the middle of the road.

“Are you alright, Heatwave?” Boulder rests a servo on Heatwave’s shoulder, and the red youngling grunts an affirmative. He’d just been so _excited_ , this was their first field expedition! His field vibrates with sheer joy, prompting the other recruits to laugh at him.

“Aw, c’mon, like you’re not excited as well!”

“Of course we are~.”

“I have studied enthusiastically for this day!”

“I wish my gestalt was here too-” Blades stops to send Typhoon a tiny glare that he doesn’t realise the teacher _sees_. 

“- but, umm, I guess I’m a little excited…” Heatwave grins, knocking his knuckles against Blades’ side, before turning to their teacher. Typhoon just about manages to hide his smile from giggling at that (adorable) glare.

“What are we waiting for, professor?” Holding up a digit patiently, Typhoon gestures towards the busy road.

“A certain someone, who you’ll be spending the rest of the day with. Now, I expect you all to be polite and respectful, but feel free to ask him questions, or chat casually.” The recruits are about to ask who Typhoon could be talking about, when a light blue tanker pulls off the main busy road and stops in the layby right in front of the academy.

With his transformation sequence comes a gasp of surprise and awe.

“Torrent, Sir!” Heatwave snaps into a salute at the mere sight of the very Rescue Bot who recommended him to become a recruit, the one who got him into the academy on his word alone, the _hero_ Heatwave had met before.

Chase and Boulder glance at Heatwave and then copy his action, puffing out their chestplates to look bigger, stronger, more worthy of being in this legendary Rescue Bots presence.

Blades, as typical, tries to hide behind someone as this _giant_ mech with a huge alt mode and bigger shadow, approaches with the stride of someone confident, someone authoritative, someone who could _crush him underpede and not even notice and-_

“Recruits, this is my younger co-creation, Torrent. I’m sure you’ve heard the reports of his rescue missions, and a few thrown in legends that are only half false, but trust me, he’s just a dork at spark.” Typhoon reaches out and pokes his brother in the cheekplate, and Torrent laughs, swatting him away.

“What do you mean ‘only half-false’? Some of those legends are sheer stories! For one thing, I’ve never been further than the Chyrisaluna galaxy, let alone towed a moon through an asteroid belt.” The brothers laugh, and Torrent trails off as he notices that not all four of the recruits are watching him.

Yes, one of them is staring at him in awe, and two watch him with respect, but the fourth, the smallest of the group and probably the smallest recruit he’s ever seen, has his faceplates buried in the back of the dark blue one.

Torrent raises an optical ridge as he looks at Typhoon, and Typhoon slightly tilts his head towards the youngling, but holds a flat servo out to indicate that this needs to be done softly.

“Are you frightened, small orange one?” Typhoon slaps his servo to his face at his brothers loud question. Honestly. How was he so amazing in the field and so incredibly _dense_ off it-

“Blades, sweetling, it’s okay… He’s an idiot, I know, but my co-creation isn’t as scary as he looks.” Blades looks up at his teacher. Looks over at Torrent. And promptly releases Chase to hide behind Typhoon instead.

The older of the siblings vents a soft sigh, letting his servo gently brush against Blades’ helm reassuringly, whilst giving Torrent a deadpan, admonishing glare.

He’s protective over his younglings, so sue him.

“... This is going well! So, is everyone ready to do some shadow-learning?” Torrent addresses the other three, noting that Chase gives Heatwave a victorious smirk and Heatwave rolls his optics with a small smile whilst Boulder laughs at their interaction.

Now _these_ are the types of younglings Torrent knows how to communicate with. He’s not used to anyone being scared of him, after all. Those in danger are usually relieved or excited to see a Rescue Bot.

“What kind of shadow-learning, Sir? Surely it won’t be too dangerous, since we are only in our first quarter of training.” Torrent nods at the brave little dark blue youngling - Chase, he knows from his brother’s warm ramblings about his class - glad that they’re open to questioning him.

Last year, he’d just been trailed by four slack-jawed recruits who were silent in their awe and barely spoke.

“Excellent question! Rather than my entire team, you’ll be shadowing just me. It’ll include duties around the Rescue base, patrol routes, and any rescues that come up - although you’ll be strictly distanced from the action and there for observation only.”

“Yes, Sir.” Chase looks around, spots Blades behind Typhoon - _overwhelmingly upset_ \- and quickly moves to take Blades’ servo in his own again.

Boulder catches on and takes up the other side, and Blades looks between them warily before giving both servos a little thankful squeeze and smiling uneasily. Feeling left out, Heatwave moves to stand between Blades and Torrent, as if he’s shielding the smaller recruit.

Not that anyone needs to be ‘shielded’ from Torrent.

But even if it’s only temporary, he wants his team to be functional.  
To feel safe with each other.  
Like _real_ Rescue Bots.

Typhoon almost coos at the protective display, hoping that this tentative show of support and friendship will ease Blades out his shell. There’s a Rescue Bot in there somewhere, he just knows it!

“Let us proceed!” Torrent steps back to the layby and transforms into his tanker mode again, revving his engine as he waits for the recruits to copy him. Heatwave does so almost immediately, folding down into his cyberlunar vehicle mode. (It’s ridiculously tiny because of his age.)

Three pairs of optics look at each other in uncertainty. Surprisingly, Boulder is the most apprehensive.

“We… Haven’t learnt that yet…” Typhoon frowns softly. They’re younglings, not sparklings. Their creators should have taught them how to do this.

But… Not all creators were good, though, were they? 

Typhoon crouches down, resting a servo on Boulder’s upper arm.

“Do you have an alt-mode scanned, sweetspark?”

“Oh yeah, my Sire helped me pick it out, but then he went off-planet, and my Carrier hasn’t come back from her own rescue mission yet.” Oh thank _Primus_ , it wasn’t a case of bad creators. Just… Unfortunate circumstance.

“Chase, Blades, do you need help too?” Chase nods after a moment of internal debate. 

“I also have an alt-mode scanned, but I am too busy with my enforcer elective to have learnt transformation.” Turning his gaze to Blades, Typhoon expects a similar answer, something about not having time, or not being taught.

“... I can turn into an arm?”

Oh.

Well.

That’s unexpected.

“An _arm_?” Heatwave’s little lunar light flashes as he speaks, questioning Blades with a heavy amount of skepticism. Blades nods again, twiddling his digits together.

“M’gestalt. We combine. A- And I don’t have room in my T-cog sequence for a secondary alt mode yet…’Aid says it’s ‘cus I don’t fuel enough.” It’s such a unique and interesting problem, that Typhoon has _no idea_ what to do.

“Look, just… How’s your balance?” Whipping his helm to Heatwave, Blades stares at him stunned as Heatwave shifts two imitation solar panels down to his sides, as if they were something to stand on.

“I-! I can’t-! _What?!_ Heatwave, I’m not going to stand on you!”

“Then what _are_ you going to do? Stay behind and fail the course?”

“No!!!” Blades huffs. He shuffles uneasily. And then he stomps right over to Heatwave and awkwardly stands by his side before looking back at Typhoon, chase, and Boulder.

Typhoon speaks to them patiently, and then, with an unmistakable sound, Boulder transforms into a small trash compactor vehicle mode. It wouldn’t have been Blades’s first choice, but Boulder seems _enthralled_ , hovering around in a little circle.

Chase takes a moment longer, and then he turns into a standard enforcer vehicle. A mini version of one, but an enforcer favoured vehicle all the same.

Just like that, they’re ready to go.

Blades nervously moves to stand on the imitation solar panels, servos wrapping around what looks like a steering system, though there’s _no way_ going to be steering.

“You’re not going to let me fall off… Right?”

“Blades. If I was going to drop you, I would have done it out the academy windows by now. If you can’t transform, then just shut up, sit still, and don’t distract me.”

“I _can_ transform.” 

“Into an arm. An ARM.”

“It’s a gestalt thing, okay?!” Heatwave grunts at the unexpected shout. He can tell Typhoon is watching them from the back of the convoy, Torrent leading the way, and feels a questioning field wash over him. Heatwave pulses back an okay, letting his teacher know nothing is wrong.

And that’s when disaster strikes.

As the group turns into a back alley leading to Torrent’s Rescue Headquarters, the ground _collapses_ beneath them.

“ _Bitlets_!!!!” Typhoon shifts into root mode, reaches out for them, but he’s only able to catch Boulder who is just in front of him. Torrent transforms as he tumbles into the deep sinkhole, spinning himself around and wrapping his arms around the three younglings falling with him.

The Rescue Bot hits the ground hard, enough to knock him out. His arms go slack, Heatwave bouncing at the impact and rolling to the edge of the sinkhole, whilst Chase falls off with a somersault to stand up again. Much less elegant, Blades rolls off and smacks onto the ground chassis-first.

“Oof!” Disorientated, it takes the recruits a moment to sit up and look around. 

At first, the dark pit looks just like that - a pit. But then, Chase sensibly activates his headlights and they can see it’s a _cavern_. Where there should be layer of mechanics and wiring, there’s torn cables that swing ominously and metal that looks like it’s been ripped.

_Shapen._

“Bitlets! Torrent! Can you hear me?!” The sound of their teacher calling from above snaps the younglings from looking around uncertainly. 

“Are you okay?” Boulder leans over the edge next to Typhoon, a servo on his back stopping him from toppling over the edge. Cupping his servos around his mouthplates, Heatwave shouts back.

“We’re okay! Torrent is unconscious, but he stopped us getting hurt!” Chase, having been the only one standing, walks around with one servo on the sides of the pit to guide him. Heatwave pushes himself to his pedes and starts trying to dust himself off.

“Stay where you are, I’m going to get help!”

“It’s already coming.” Echoing in the deep chamber, Blades’ voice isn’t as quiet as it usually is when he speaks. He sounds distracted, inspecting Torrent’s unconscious frame with careful servos and a magnifying visor over his optics. When no one else speaks, he looks up.

“I pushed our coordinates through the gestalt bond. Everyone else is coming, with the Rescue Teams they’re shadowing.” Typhoon vents a shaky sigh of relief. Belatedly, he realises the edge of the sinkhole isn’t the safest place to be, and gently ushers Boulder backwards before scooting back himself.

“That’s- That’s good. That’s great, Blades. I need the three of you to stay exactly where you are, okay?”

“That… May not be an option.” Chase stares at the wall. No, not the wall. Something _on_ the wall. His headlights catch it at an angle, and it shows up as angry, deep gouges in the metal.

And it’s not the only one.

There’s scratches and gouges and claw marks all around. Heatwave glances towards the part of the cavern that leads deeper under Cybertron, backing away from it uneasily.

He’d thought the sounds inside were just the workings of a metal planet.  
But now, it seemed more sinister.

“No, no, you have to stay where you are-”

“We can’t! There’s evidence of a wild creature down here!”

He and Chase are both uneasy, grouping together closer to Torrent. Glancing over his shoulder, Heatwave expects to see Blades cowering or trying to hide. But he’s _not_. Instead, he’s intently focused on Torrent, servos dipped in energon as he patches together sheared plating and disconnected wires-

His optics flicker upwards every now and then, checking the situation around him, before wordlessly returning to what he’s doing.

No-  
Not wordlessly.

He’s muttering to himself.

“- abrasion in CM65, light scratches observed to the 8th quart, buffing required. Dislocated HR412 joint, heavy leakage from damage to areas HR410-HR416, insufficient tools to cauterise injury-”

On and on he rambles, and Heatwave startles when he realises it’s medical lingo. Blades is _documenting_ Torrent’s injuries, fixing what he can, and seemingly accepting of the energon droplets that paint his servos.

“You know medical stuff?”

“- tied off fuel line FL8, First Aid taught all of us basic field repairs and taught me a little extra on top, FL9 kinked but not penetrated-”

Typhoon, having nervously paced away fro the sinkhole with servos over his face stressfully, returns to leaning just over the edge. A wild creature.

 _Primus_ , this was shaping up to be a bigger disaster than he first thought. 

What is he supposed to _do_?!

“Is Boulder still up there with you?” Blades’s clear, calm voice comes from down below, taking a moment to pause in his repairs and wait for an answer. Hearing his name, Boulder moves forwards. Typhoon’s arm stretches out to stop him getting too close to the edge.

“I’m here. What do you need?”

“Streetwise says he sees you reading Cybertronian life datapads in the library a lot. Have you read anything that could tell us what this is?”

“Uh… Possibly?” Boulder rubs the back of his helm, recollecting as much as he can about the wildlife of Cybertron. His optics light up a little when he catches onto something.

“We’re in a pretty built up area, so I’d say it’s either Cyberwolves, turbofoxes or Retro-rats. What sort of evidence did you find, Chase?”

“Insidiously deep claw marks. I’d say perhaps 2000 nanometers. I also believe that most of this area has been tunneled out by sharp, serrated denta.”

“Okay, that’s Cyberwolves then. Retro-rats have blunt denta, and turbofoxes have much sharper, but smaller claws.” Heatwave scowls as he glares into the darkness. Is it just him, or is something moving about in there?

“Oh yeah? What else do you know about Cyberwolves?”

“Well, the good news is; They prefer dark places and aren’t likely to come into the light. They’re also scavengers, so you’re probably safe as long as you’re hard to get to. The bad news… Well… They have been _known_ to take easy kills, and, uh, they’re pack animals.”

“... _Excuse_ me?”

“They’re pack animals… Where there’s one, there’s at least three more. Packs of up to 16 have been observed in old industrial sectors, or on the edge of the wilds!” Forgetting the situation for a moment, Boulder rambles on excitedly.

He can’t help that he loves living things.

“When you say ‘known’ to kill…” Chase leaves the rest of the question unspoken, swinging his headlights about in the dark space in front of them. Like Heatwave, he keeps thinking he can see something moving, but it could be paranoia.

Or it could not be.

“There’s a few recorded incidents of Cyberwolves taking lost younglings from quiet streets.”

“Boulder, _we’re_ younglings!!!” Heatwave’s shout echoes in the pit, the tailend of it sounding like a growl.

No.  
Not like a growl.

Not ‘like’ a growl at all.

It _is_ a growl.  
And it didn’t come from Heatwave.

Chase and Heatwave step closer together, frames practically touching as snarls and yips and growls seems to erupt from the cavern in response to the first one. The duo back up until they press against Torrent, the Rescue Bot still unconscious.

From above, they can hear Typhoon and Boulder talking to others - their teacher _beyond_ panicked - which means another Rescue Team is on the scene. It’s not any of theirs though. Blades would know if his gestalt was nearby.

Chase, worried about his new friend, pulls himself over Torrent’s frame, and finds Blades.

“Blades, are you-”

“Do _not_ ask me if I’m okay, it will distract me from focusing on what I’m doing and trying to separate myself from this situation.” As he finishes the sentence, Blades closes an access panel and shakes his servos to get as much energon off them as possible.

“I- I see…” Blades offers Chase a small smile, then takes in a deep vent and slips round to Torrent’s front with Heatwave and chase, watching as several glowing yellow optics start to appear in the darkness. 

Heatwave tilts his helm towards them and quietly mumbles;

“I’ve counted 5 so far. They move around a lot, but I don’t think they’re playing.” Blades and Chase nod in response. 

“If they approach, your water reserves may be able to deflect them for a short period of time, until they realise the benefit of a meal outweighs a harsh wash.”

“Yeah, that’s what I planned on, Chase. Both of you stay behind me.” Heatwave takes a step forwards, narrowing his optics at the Cyberwolves as they slink forwards.

Deferring to Heatwave, Chase and Blades follow his instructions, but whilst Chase is purely focused on the danger right in front of them, Blades keeps looking around, searching for something.

A long, clawed pede steps into the light.

Heatwave raises his arm.

A narrow muzzle, serrated teeth bared stretches out of the darkness.

Heatwave clenches his servo.

The Cyberwolf, silver in colour but dirty with oil from the internals of Cybertron crouches down, taking all its weight into its haunches, ready to pounce, but Heatwave doesn’t miss a beat and fires a short, fast burst of water at it.

With a yelp, the Cyberwolf retreats to the back of the pack, shaking off water droplets and glaring back at its ‘easy’ meal with distaste.

As if enraged by the treatment of their packmate, it spurns the other Cyberwolves to act.

They must be _starving_ , or they wouldn’t attack three healthy younglings, one of which fought back.

“Wait, I have an idea. Heatwave, can you spray anything other than water?”

“Uh… Fireproof foam?” Chase looks to Blades questioningly, but the little orange youngling just grins.

“Do you think it will work as insulation foam?” There’s a moment where Heatwave tilts his helm to the side, still spraying the Cyberwolves when they cross the line between light and dark.

“Probably, I’m not sure.”

“Great! Cover us in it!” Blades gestures to all of them in this hole, and Heatwave chokes on a vent as he looks at Blades like he’s _crazy_ and Chase looks stunned and-

He sprays a Cyberwolf mid-leap, switches to foam, and quickly covers all four of them before switching back to water and aiming at the beasts again.

Honestly, even _they_ seem confused by the display.

“Don’t bother with small amounts of water anymore - Douse them! Make a large puddle underneath, and then a small trail leading back to us. Then, Chase, use your taser to put a current through the water!”

“How- How did you know I have a taser?”

“Hot Spot considered going for the enforcer elective because it came with a taser installation. In the end, he didn’t, but _you_ did!” 

It’s not much, but it’s a plan. And it’s the only plan they’ve got.

“Alright, one puddle, coming up.” Heatwave adjusts the flow from short, sharp pulses of water to a single jet, essentially giving the Cyberwolves a much needed power wash.

The flow slows to a trickle, drawing closer to them, and the astrosecond Heatwave runs out of water, Blades shouts;

“Chase! Now!” 

“Proceeding!” Chase jams his taser into the water streaming near them, and activates it. From the liquid, sparks fly up and electricity cackles, and the pit is _flooded_ with bright, white light.

Loud yelps are followed with the skittering of paws, and then… 

Silence.

“What is going on down there?! Chase? Heatwave? Blades?!” Feeling a little sorry for putting their teacher through what is obviously an insane amount of stress, Blades shouts up.

“We got rid of the Cyberwolves!” 

“We are no longer in danger and I believe easier to rescue now, Professor Typhoon.” Typhoon almost whimpers with relief. He’d been terrified that any anstrominute now, he’d hear screams of death and the feasting of Cyberwolves.

Thank _pit_ the younglings were safe.

The Rescue Team on site - not one that Typhoon knows - set up a pulley system over the sinkhole, and one of them is lowered in on a platform. Reaching the bottom, the rescuer steps off. She grins at the sight of three recruits covered in insulation foam.

“You bitlets ready to go up?”

“Is this a good time to mention I’m afraid of heights…?” Blades sheepishly rubs at the back of his helm as the Rescue Bot ushers him onto the platform. His spark lurches as it starts moving upwards, fear flooding his veins.

Gently, Chase wraps him in a hug, letting Blades bury his optics in Chase’s neck. He starts to shake about halfway, and even though Heatwave rolls his optics, he still reaches out and rubs a servo up and down Blades’ back.

“Honestly, how are you more scared of _heights_ than actual _**Cyberwolves**_?” Blades doesn’t answer, just trying to hide completely against Chase, who holds him a little tighter.

“I believe Blades was distancing himself from situation and it is now catching up to him.” Heatwave vents a sigh, but it’s sympathetic, and he removes to servo to instead lean against Blades’ back as a comforting weight.

Chase stares at him, highly amused, and Heatwave raises an optical ridge in return. Heatwave’s faceplates quickly heat when he catches the knowing glint in Chase’s optics and the little smirk he gives.

“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Of course, Heatwave. I will not tell anyone about your cru-”

“Shh! We’re near the top!” As they crest over the edge of the pit/sinkhole/cavern, glaring light momentarily blinds them. Heatwave pulls away from the hug and crosses his arms instead, acting all big and tough.

Chase rolls his optics.  
If anyone _knew_ Heatwave like he and Boulder did, they’d know he was a big softy at spark, he’s just good at acting like nothing affects him.

“Blades!!!” The shout sounds quite far off, and then, from around a distant corner, four other younglings come running. The rest of the gestalt.

(Belatedly, Heatwave notes that they must have raced ahead of their own groups.)

By the time the platform has been moved over to the edge, and the trio of younglings moved safely back from the edge, Typhoon is already trying to hold back the rest of the gestalt to stop them getting too close. 

Boulder gently offers out blankets when his friends are within reach, helping to wrap Blades in one as Chase and Heatwave pull their own around them. They’re still covered in insulation foam after all.

“Are you okay…?” 

“Yeah. We were- We almost weren’t. But Blades had a pretty good plan, so we made it out.” Boulder smiles sadly at them, voice quiet when he says;

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you.” 

“Be glad you weren’t. It was rather unsettling.”

“But maybe I could have helped-”

“You did.” The small interruption has all three looking at Blades as he pulls away from Chase, still shaking. He gives Boulder a small, reassuring smile before trying to hide within his blanket.

“I only came up with a plan ‘cus of what you said ‘bout Cyberwolves… Y’know, not liking light, or- or not being able to get to us…” Boulder beams at him, appreciating Blades’ attempt to cheer him up whilst still being terrified himself.

“Hey, you know what? We make a pretty good team.” Heatwave knocks his shoulder against Boulder’s own, brushing his knuckles against Chase’s upper arm. With a rare, warm smile at Blades, he offers out a servo.

“Whaddya say about getting lunch with us back at the academy?”

“No.” Heatwave’s smile and servo drop. Ouch. That had been a quick rejection. And it kind of stung. Even Chase looks a little hurt.

Blades takes a deep vent in, shakes his helm vigorously, and then tugs the blanket around himself tighter.

“I just need my gestalt right now. And for the rest of the day. But, umm… Maybe I can sit with you at lunch _tomorrow_...?” He peers over the edge of the blanket shyly, Heatwave and Boulder looking at each other with grins before giving him matching thumbs up, and Chase leans over to wipe a fluffy blob of insulation foam off Blades’ optic ridge.

“That would be most enjoyable~. Please stay safe, Blades.” And with that, Chase gives Blades a tiny nudge towards where Typhoon is struggling to hold the rest of the gestalt back.

First aid is frantically trying to wriggle his way out from under one arm, Streetwise is trapped between Typhoon’s legs where he tried to make a mad dash through, Groove is _shouting_ up at Typhoon, demanding to be let past and Hot Spot is-

Hot Spot is trapped under Typhoon’s other arm, sharp little fanged denta in their teacher’s servo.

All four are just as desperate to get to Blades as he is to get to them, and it’s with Chase’s little nudge that something within him just switches to _needing_ his gestalt around him, and Blades runs.

He drops the blanket as he runs over to them, barreling into them as he sobs, and disappears beneath the hug his brothers wrap him up in, like they’re trying to protect him from the world around them.

Now that Typhoon is no longer having to hold his students back, he vents a sigh and moves over to Boulder, Chase, and Heatwave. Kneeling down, he meets them optic to optic.

“What happened today shouldn’t have happened. You were all put in danger, and I’m so _so_ sorry. If I’d been more careful, more alert, more-”

“Professor. It was an _accident_.” Heatwave says it slowly, like he’s spelling it out.

“Yeah! If you hadn’t been alert, I would have fallen down there with the others!”

“No one could have truthfully predicted this. We’re just grateful you didn’t leave us alone.”

Typhoon sucks in a large vent. Optics filling with fluid, he pulls the three younglings into a tight, short hug.

“I’m so proud of you all. You’re going to make _amazing_ Rescue Bots one day.”

And that approval?  
That’s almost enough for them to consider this disaster a success.

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up much longer than expected.
> 
> Thank you for reading, please kudos/comment~!!!


End file.
